Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“It’s the perfect solution. Dylan will help out when you have to work late, and he can take the girls to day camp with him during the day. They’ll love the rec center camp, you’ll see.”
“I’m not sure they’re old enough—”
“They’re going to be in kindergarten in the fall. Trust me, being around other kids instead of just a babysitter will be great for them.”
Like Apollo needed another reminder that time was marching on. How were the babies almost kindergarteners? “And you know this how, bachelor of the decade?”
“My sisters all have kids. And Dylan’s always spouting all that early childhood psychology stuff too.”
Dylan, little Dylan, taking psychology classes was something Apollo still couldn’t wrap his head around. “I don’t think I could have someone around the girls, sight unseen—”
“I knew you’d say that. He’s on his way over.”
“He’s what?” Back be damned, Apollo leaped off the chair. Was he going to have to deal with this today? “Isn’t he in Oregon?”
“Relax. He was in town for the day camp job interview, decided to stay a few extra days. I told him to stop by after I had a chance to work on you.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” Apollo glared down at Dustin who responded by hefting himself out the chair.
“I know you.” Dustin met him glare for glare, close to two decades of friendship between them. He was the only one in the world Apollo would let get away with crap like this. “And if you let yourself slow down and think about this, you’ll see that it’s the perfect solution for everyone.”
Apollo didn’t believe in perfect, not anymore. He looked away, trying to find the right words to tell Dustin that his guest room was not a La Quinta for recent grads, even beloved brothers of best friends.
“This would mean a lot to me.” Dustin leaned in. “Look, we both know that my team’s due to go wheels up any time now, and the kid took this job because I’m here. If I knew you were looking out for him—”
“Is the grill ready?” Apollo’s mother bustled out onto the patio with a huge tray of food. “And Dustin, your brother’s here. The girls already claimed him. We might want to rescue him eventually.”
“Excellent.” Dustin shot Apollo a look, one that clearly said, see, your kids like him. And he’d had to go making it out like Apollo would be doing him a favor. Because Apollo couldn’t say no to that, not after all the times Dustin had had his back when it mattered most.
“Help! I’ve been captured!” A husky laugh echoed across the yard as a guy emerged through the sliding glass door, one twin under each arm.
Apollo had to blink, because there, wearing a tiara and a much-too-small cape, was perfect butt guy from the store. Because of course it was. Such was Apollo’s luck lately.
“Dylan?” he managed to ask. Not like there was much doubt, but a stubborn part of him didn’t want to admit how badly he was fucked. He couldn’t say no to Dustin, but he also couldn’t spend a summer contending with that.
“What’s up, Apollo?” Dylan flashed him a grin full of dimples and mischief. Yeah, that was all kinds of trouble, and Apollo had no room for trouble.
Chapter Two
Dylan set the girls down so he could shake Apollo’s hand. They really were adorable kids—heart-shaped faces and long dark hair in pigtails. He watched Apollo’s face carefully, waiting to see if he’d confess to Dustin that they’d run into each other earlier in the day. But as usual, Apollo’s stony facade gave nothing away.
“Good to see you again, kid.” Apollo gave him a quick handshake, the kind a politician might offer, and not one worthy of an old friend. Which was only right, since Apollo had always been Dustin’s best friend, not Dylan’s. Still, the cursory greeting stung a bit, but not quite as much as the kid. Dylan yanked off the tiara and cape and set them on the picnic table.
“I brought your beer,” Dylan said to Dustin. “And some cookies.” He said the last bit looking directly at Apollo. Yeah, I saw you looking at my ass. And you liked what you saw. Kid, my foot. He wasn’t vain, but he’d put on fifty pounds of muscle since Apollo saw him last, and four years of varsity soccer at U of O had honed those muscles into something other people seem to appreciate. Including Lieutenant Hard-to-Please.
He honestly hadn’t been sure whether it was Apollo at first glance—gone was Apollo’s shaggy black hair of eight years ago, replaced by a close cut, and his olive skin seemed paler, with a hint of beard shadow replacing a perennially scruffy jaw. His hazel eyes didn’t twinkle like they once had, instead were haunted by shadows that made him look older than thirty-four. But he had the same scrollwork biceps tat and same killer glower on his rugged face. No one did vaguely pissed-off sexier than Apollo Floros.